Reeve drew a breath, shut his eyes and forced himself inside.

The light hit his eyes immediately, causing his headache to intensify. He grit his teeth and released his breath, clenching a fist and moving forward.He needed shadows. If he was seen here, he would be found, and he would fail. But how does one get shadows into a well-lit hospital?

Kill the lights, of course.

Still clenching his eyes shut, he stuffed his bandaged right hand into his pocket, fishing out Hawthorne. He spun the dagger in his hand, and painfully pried an eye open. He took another breath, and held it. He jerked his gaze upwards, staring at the glaring light above him. He drew back an arm, and whipped the dagger forwards. With a shower of satisfying sparks the light came crashing down go the tile floor, and Reeve had his shade. Sighing in immense relief, he stomped on one of said shadows.

And just like that, he slid away like the shade he was, to do what he had set out to do; find Thanatos, God of Death. And his uncle.